


hold on

by antoniohiggins



Series: tumblr requests (newsies) [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drinking, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, M/M, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Violence, it's sad just read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antoniohiggins/pseuds/antoniohiggins
Summary: a one-shot request from @acttwohurts on tumblr and basically just an angst festivalget ready for tears*do not read if anything in the tags makes you uncomfortable, please stay safe friends*





	hold on

Some things in life you think will never happen to you or anyone you love. Things that you hear about on tv or read about in the news just don’t seem possible sometimes. It’s as if those things only happen to other people, people you’ll never know and would never encounter.

Until it happens.

When the unthinkable becomes a reality and you’re left shaking and sobbing and wondering how life could’ve possibly screwed you over so badly. Because when something finally happens, whether it’s to you or someone you love, it hurts like a bitch and that’s just life.

No matter what people say or do, there’s nothing that could possibly be done to fix it. There’s no way to reverse the events of this fucked up life and that’s the hardest part about living with the most brutal forms of torture.

The kind that may end physically, but are ever-present for the rest of your life.

So Spot would never forget the day that it all started, or the time they walked through the bar whose name he’s never be able to shake from his brain. The barstools they sat at were a burning reminder on his skin and the orders of all of their friends were permanently ingrained in his memory. The worst night of his life could be broken down by every single minute detail and, no matter what, he’d never escape from it.

It was September twelfth, Jack Kelly’s twenty-first birthday, and what was usually a great night for all of their friends as it had been since they were teenagers. As many people did at his age, the few people in their group already twenty-one organized a small celebration at a bar nearby to their neighborhood of apartments. Everyone was laughing, and celebrating, and, well, drinking about as much as they were allowed by the bartender.

They were among a fairly large crowd, nothing anyone seemed to be too concerned about, that is, until the fight broke out.

All of a sudden some guy in a pretentious suit and watch that likely cost enough to put one of the group members through college, smashed a glass against the edge of the bar. The girl standing near him screamed, flinching backwards as he drew a small crowd. A man standing behind her, likely her boyfriend based on the way she clung to him, was fuming, his fists clenched at his sides as if he were trying to hold himself back.

“She’s leadin’ me on!” The man’s words were slurred, clearly an excessive amount of alcohol in his system as he clutched a bottle of beer tightly in his hand. “I wouldn’t‘ve touched ‘er if she weren’t so easy.”

The woman whimpered at his choice of words, wrapping her arm around herself to cover up her low-cut top. She turned away, unable to watch, as her boyfriend lunges forward, his fist making harsh contact with the man’s jaw, sending him staggering backwards.

Everyone at the table was shocked into silence as Kath and Sarah held tightly to each other, both out of fear of the same thing happening to them, and out of anger for the other innocent woman.

Spot, ready to fight as always, stepped forward away from their table, approaching the trio.

“Spot,” Race called, hopping out of his seat after his boyfriend. “Spotty, come on, I know this sucks ass, but it ain’t your fight and I can’t watch you get hurt over this.”

Spot took one look at his boyfriend and the terror behind his icy blue eyes and dipped his head, stepping past him and gripping onto the drunk man’s shoulder, yanking him off of the girl’s boyfriend as the top of his beer bottle broke off against the edge of the bar.

Race swore angrily as he stepped between his boyfriend and the crowd, trying to block out all of the chaos going on behind his as he focused on trying to get Spot out of harm's way to the best of his ability.

“What tha’ fuck,” the man drawled, his attention quickly shifting to the pair of boys in front of his. “You lil’ shits.”

Race didn’t flinch, he just switched into a steely gaze at he looked at Spot, silently hoping he would come to his sense and back down.

The problem was, he knew his Spot and that boy was not backing down, especially not with a problem like this. He had dealt with enough of his mom’s own domestic abuse pain from his father to know that when cloudy-minded people wanted sex, they wouldn’t back down. Spot was a hardcore advocate for anything to do with safety for both male and female victims of domestic and sexual abuses, which meant that for once, Race would never be able to hold him back.

Besides, part of him didn’t really want to. The guy seemed mostly harmless and he knew Spot could definitely hold his own, so he kissed the boy’s cheek lightly, whispered a quick “be safe” in his ear, and returned to the table with the rest of his friends.

“Sorry Jackie, I guess your birthday comes wit’ drinks and a show,” Race teased, taking another sip of his drinks and silently cheering as Spot ushered the man out the door, pinning his arms back as he tried to grab at multiple other women on the way out.

“Ey’, I’ll take any chance I can get if it means I might get ta’ watch ‘im get beat up,” Jack smirked as Spot slid back into his seat, curling up beside Race and glaring at his brother.

“That ain’t ever gonna’ happen n’ you know it, asshole,” he challenged, multiple members of the party around the table expressing their agreement.

“Oh, come on! We all know ya’ don’t win every fight, Spotty. B’sides, you’s just doin’ it ta’ impress Race n’ we know it,” Jack prodded, wiggling his eyebrows as the other tried to hide his reddening cheeks.

“At least it works,” Race mumbled against the lip of his glass, earning laughs from around the group.

And so that was how they spent the rest of their night, with inside jokes and teasing cracks at their friends, everyone there having a completely normal and enjoyable time. The aforementioned event wasn’t brought up again and it was as if, by the time everyone began to leave, that they had all forgotten that it ever happened.

They didn’t, obviously, but Jack’s birthday celebration went off without a hitch and with a designated driver going to each apartment building, everyone made their way home.

“I’m just gonna’ talk ta’ the bar staff n’ make sure that guy from earlier won’t be allowed back ‘ere,” Spot spoke up to his boyfriend as Race nodded, heading out the door to the parking lot.

The night went two ways at that very moment.

Spot talked to the bartender, the only staff member he could find, and was thoroughly thanked for helping the situation. The bartender promised that the man would, at the very least, be refused service if he ever returned and after contact information, in case of any other legal issues were to come, was exchanged, Spot headed out to his car.

It all went downhill when Race stepped out the door five minutes before Spot did. Maybe what happened wasn’t intended, or maybe that’s what he had planned all along, but nonetheless, Spot never expected to see what he saw when he walked out that door.

When Race left the building, the moment the door shut, a hand clamped over his mouth. He froze, terrified, as his eyes scanned the barren parking lot.

He made as much noise as he could, his eyes watering as he struggled under the person’s grasp.

“Well, well, well,” a slurred voice murmured in his ear, instantly making his heart drop as he knew exactly who it was. “Ya’ even look like ‘er.”

Race whimpered lightly as the man ran his hands through his hair. Spot. He wanted Spot. He couldn’t stop crying but all he wanted was Spot.

“Not as pretty,” he spoke, turning the boy around harshly, but keeping his hands firmly where they were. “But I guess you’s good ’nough.”

He traced his hand that was previously holding Race’s arms back along his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt tightly as he seethed into the terrified boy’s face.

“Move n’ I’ll kill ya’,” he threatened, letting go of the boy’s mouth and pulling out a bottle from his coat pocket, the bottom of it smashed into jagged blades. “Now, this should be easy.”

He slipped the bottle back into his pocket, keeping his hand on it tightly as he began undoing the buttons along Race’s shirt.

He was three drunkenly-ruined buttons down when the door swung open harshly.

“Sean,” Race whimpered, not facing the door, but praying to any entity he could think of that whoever just walked out of the bar was his boyfriend and not some useless drunk who would inevitably leave him for dead.

But for once he got lucky. Spot’s confused head whipped around and he gaped at the scene he was completely oblivious to just seconds before. He thought he might cry at the sight of the boy he loved shaking violently under the touch of some man who clearly had worse things in mind than just touching him.

He wanted to run. He wanted to get Race away from that bastard and hold him until nothing bad could ever happen to him, but then he saw it. The man’s hand moving out from his pocket as he spun Race around holding his back to the man’s chest and gripping him with his free arm around the shoulders.

Spot could see the tear tracks streaming down the boy’s cheeks and the terrified pleading in his eyes as he choked out a sob, whimpering as the bottle mad its way to press into his chest.

“You take one step n’ I’ll kill ‘im. I swear, I ain’t afraid a’ you’s,” the man drawled, looming over Race’s shoulder and making the boy shudder.

Spot couldn’t just sit there as the man continued ripping open more and more buttons. He shuffled his feet as silently as he could, knowing that with that man preoccupied with Race’s shirt, he’d probably be too drunk to notice. In fact, he made it at least a couple feet before with one snap of a bottle cap on the ground, everything they were holding onto so precariously fell to pieces.

“Oh, I warned you,” he hissed as Race shut his eyes tightly, crying out softly as the man pressed the broken bottle harder, just below the middle of his ribs.

Spot knew he had two options: stand there and try to plead and reason his way out of this drunk monster stabbing his boyfriend, or he could try to stop him before he did anything legitimately dangerous. Both could go horribly wrong, but with a split second of time to think, only one of them had an actual chance of protecting Race so he didn’t think twice.

He practically sprinted at the man, his fist making harsh, cracking contact with his jaw and leaving him staggering backwards. The man looked back at Spot as the shorter expected a retaliation, he simply smirked and Spot’s heart sank.

He had no control after that, screaming and wailing, he had no idea, but the man was unconscious on the ground in seconds, a bloodied beer bottle still in his hand. Spot was shaking, equal parts terror and rage surging through his bloodstream as he sank to his knees, rushing to Race’s side as he curled up against the side of the building.

“Baby? Tony, can you hear me?” He choked out, tears flooding down his face as he hardly wanted to hear the answer.

“Spotty?” Race’s voice was weak and terrified as he lifted his head from his curled-up position, connecting their eyes.

“Oh thank god,” Spot practically cheered with relief as he took one of Race’s hands, freezing at the blood covering the boy’s fingers. “Tony...”

The other just cried, clutching his torso as he un-curled his legs, Spot’s eyes darting straight towards the seeping red splotch in the center of his chest. His whole world came crashing down as he sobbed, sliding his arms around the boy and pulling Race into his arms and curling him into his chest.

“You’re gonna’ be okay, everything’s gonna be fine baby,” he whispered, secretly trying to convince both of them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, considering entering his brother’s phone number, but deleting it as soon as he started typing and calling Davey instead.

As always, he picked up almost instantly, Spot exhaling a watery sigh as he rattled off requests to call an ambulance.

“Spot, what the hell? What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything later, I promise, but we’s gotta’ get to the hospital and I’s pretty sure if I try ta’ talk sense ta’ anyone I don’t know, it won’t do any good. Just, please. Meet us there if ya’ want, but just do it please, Dave,” Spot practically begged as Davey promised he would, promptly hanging up the phone as, across town, Davey frantically called every sober or slightly-sober person in their group he could get a hold of. They were all on their way within ten minutes.

Meanwhile, Spot was practically clinging to Race for his life on the curb outside the bar. The red and blue flashing lights were the only thing keeping him sane as he rocked back and forth with the whimpering boy in his arms, pressing an endless amount of kisses to his forehead and trying not to think about anything.

Race was mumbling random variations of “I love you” over and over, per Spot’s request for him to keep talking until the paramedics arrived.

“It’s okay baby, they’re here. Everything’s going to be okay. They’re gonna’ take good care a’ you n’ I’m gonna’ be right here with ya’ the whole time, I promise,” he whispered, taking his hand and gently cupping the boy’s face and lifting it slightly. As he connected their lips it was desperate and full of longing as they sadly broke apart.

Despite his protests to never leave his side, a couple of the paramedics took Race from Spot’s arms and rushed the former into the back of the ambulance, Spot and a few nurses following close behind.

No one asked questions as Spot immediately took Race’s hand the second he climbed into the back of the ambulance, sitting right beside the stretcher in the middle as the two kept their eyes on each other despite all of the commotion around them.

They were two minutes from the emergency room. Everything was going to be fine, but then as if it had been painful to keep them open, Race’s ice blue eyes fluttered closed and his grip on Spot’s hand went limp.

“Tony? No, no, no this isn’t happening! Someone do something! Please, I can’t-,” he sobbed, his voice cracking as he held Race’s hand in both of his own. Spot looked away, burying his face in the wrapped bundle of hands as one of the EMTs straddled the stretcher and began compressions.

“Come on kid,” she huffed, continuing the motion even as the pulled up to the unloading lot and the stretcher was placed on a proper gurney. Spot was torn away from Race in the commotion and the moment their hands disconnected, he was done. He walked slowly into the emergency room, found a chair closest to the door of the wing they had taken his boyfriend into, and wept. The tears continued to flow as he was soon joined by a few people sitting around him quietly.

“Hey Spot,” a voice spoke as Spot looked up to see Davey standing in front of him with Jack right by his side. He quickly stood, ignoring everything about physical contact that he used to avoid like the plague, and buried his face in the taller boy’s chest, hugging him tightly. He could feel the initial shock wear away as he reciprocated, Jack joining in soon after, as well as a few more bodies he couldn’t identify.

But they didn’t even know why.

“Spot,” Albert spoke up from his position on the ground, fear in his eyes. “Where’s Race?”

The second his name left the boy’s lips Spot broke down, his chest constricting and his stomach churning. He made a weak gesture towards the door that the EMTs had taken his through and the other boy shuddered.

“W-what happened?” All Spot could see was the absolute terror in his eyes and think that must be him.

He took a deep breath, stared down at his hands, still bruised and bloody, and clenched his eyes shut tight.

“The guy from the bar,” he started as the group immediately began thinking of all the horrible things that could’ve led them from a seemingly-harmless bar fight to the emergency room. “We were on our way out, Tony...he went first so I could talk to the bartender, but when I walked outside h-he had him.”

He sobbed painfully, burying his face in his shaking hands as the group stayed silent, careful not to do anything to make things worse.

“I-I fucked up so bad,” he mumbled, not looking up. “I lunged at the guy n’ I knocked him out b-but he had this-this thing. He broke a bottle n’ stabbed him with it.”

The way he spoke made his words feel like venom as he clenched his fists in his hair and shook like a leaf.

“Oh my god,” Katherine spoke in disbelief, tears welling up in her eyes as no one else could find the words to express the awful sinking feeling in their group.

It wasn’t until the doors to their left swung open and Spot practically kept out of his seat to the nurse he recognized immediately.

“Don’t worry, I have good news,” she started, her voice as calm as possible as she looked over Spot’s shoulder to the rest of the group. “He’s mostly stable for now, he did lose quite a bit of blood, but you all are welcome to see him if you’d like.”

The moment she spoke those words, Spot was off down the hallway, glancing into every room for the unmistakable head of blond curls he missed so much.

“Maybe not all at once,” the nurse added to the group as they all collected themselves as headed down the hall in a slower, more timid manner.

But Spot was losing his mind. He found the door, staring at the hastily-written name on the sign and hovered his hand above the handle, finally opening it and freezing in the doorway.

There he was, in the near-darkness of the small room and Spot just gravitated towards him. His feet carried him without will and before he knew it his knees gave out and he crumbled to the side of the bed.

“Oh god Tonio,” he cooed, taking the boy’s face in his hands and curling up beside him. It was a bit of a relief to see that he didn’t appear to be in pain. Still, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t killing Spot to see him like this. He curled into Race’s side, reaching over his chest and holding him tightly. He traced his fingers up and down Race’s arm as he listened with his head on the other’s chest to the slow heartbeat that was the only thing keeping him sane. The rest of the group began to fill in the room, but none of them dared to disturb the boy.

They silently took their places around the room, some of them comforting each other and some of them drinking as much water as they could to potentially dispel any lingering drunkenness. Davey grabbed Race’s charts off the end of the bed and began to assess the more complicated matters as Albert sat on the edge of the bed opposite Spot.

“I'm sorry,” he spoke after the silence had made everyone present thoroughly uncomfortable.

Spot took his eyes off of Race for just a moment to take in the ginger-haired boy at the end of the bed.

“You ain’t got anything to be sorry for, Allie,” he said sadly, turning back to his boyfriend and burying himself in the one-sided comfort.

“I know, it’s just” he started, trailing off. “I’m terrified outta’ my mind and I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, so I’m sorry.”

Spot glanced up at him again, this time not moving from his position, and nodded, a weak smile on his lips as he leaned up and kissed the underside of Race’s jaw gently.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, which they all knew was just about all he could bring himself to say right now, but that was enough for them.

Their friends were inseparable as the night progressed, nurses coming in every once in a while to check up on everything, but even though visiting hours had ended a long time ago, they were told that an exception could be made since Race had been admitted after the hours had even ended.

A few members of the group left once midnight passed, everyone understanding that some of them had work and classes the next morning, but a few stayed behind for a bit longer. Eventually, they too left, partly for reasons unannounced, but mostly because they all knew that Spot didn’t like to deal with feelings around other people. That is, people other than Race.

With the room now silent and empty, Spot made a split second decision to do something he had a feeling he would likely regret. He lifted the thin blanket from over the boy, stood up from the bed, and lifted up the end of the hospital gown covering Race’s pale, wiry frame.

The moment he saw the giant amalgamation of various types of bandages he felt the tears prick at his eyes again as he, extremely gently, traced over them with his fingers before leaning his head onto the bare part of Race’s chest and kissing the skin just before the bandages. He knew it wouldn’t hurt him, but to be fair Spot was basically treating him like the most fragile thing on the planet and who knew what he could accidentally do.

He re-situated everything back the way it was, this time sliding in beside Race under the blanket and wrapping his arms around him gently. Spot couldn’t do anything to stop his tears at that point as he took one hand to carefully cup the boy’s face before softly carding his fingers through his hair.

“C’mon baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking and shaking, despite the fact that he knew nothing would come from his words. “I need you to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

So that was that. With the gentle moonlight shining in through the small cracks between the cheap blinds on the window and the distant sounds of patients, doctors, and nurses milling about outside the room, Spot eventually fell asleep, but not without every possible confirmation that if he did, Race would still be okay. He laid his head on the boy’s chest, listening to the slowly beating tempo and let himself drift off, clutching one of Race’s hands to his chest.

Early the next morning, before any of their friends had the chance to come back, Spot was awake and waiting patiently. The nurses had said that the anesthetic they used for his stitches should wear off soon and Spot was wasting every possible second until it did. He updated their friends every half-hour on the dot, despite the fact that literally nothing was happening, and it was pure torture waiting through silence.

He started a video chat with Jack and Davey as they both returned to their dorm after class. It mostly just included Jack complaining about his hangover, Davey complaining about Jack’s complaining, and Spot trying not to make the hours and hours of crying evident in his voice. Not that the two didn’t know better, they just wanted to let him be and if he didn’t want to talk about it, they would give him time.

Jack and Davey had sent out a message to their group asking anyone that wasn’t at work or in class to come over to their dorm to help their boredom and Spot basically just completely disassociated from the call, sliding his phone off of his lap and propping it up at the end of the bed. He took Race’s hand closest to him and traced along each of his fingers, kissing the top of his knuckles and weaving their hands together as he stared up at the ceiling.

But then all the stars aligned and Spot felt the boy’s hand shift slightly and tighten around his own.

Their friends on the phone quickly took notice that what they were looking at had changed, but they kept quiet as the scene unfolded.

“Tony?” Spot sounded so broken, yet so hopeful as the other shifted towards him just a little and fluttered his eyes open. “Oh god baby, you’re okay.”

He threw his arms around the boy, still careful not to do anything that could potentially hurt him, but clinging to him like a lifeline. Race, upon realizing what was going on, slowly moved his arms up to do the same, curling his hands into the back of Spot’s shirt and burying his face in his shoulder.

“Spotty?”

“It’s me, sweetheart, I’m right here,” he cried, shamelessly grinning through his tears as they eventually pulled apart. Race’s hands cupped Spot’s cheeks, brushing away the tears and pulling him closer until their lips finally met, both of them sighing into the kiss and tangling up in each other.

“Sorry I scared you,” Race chuckled sheepishly as they separated, his cheeks bright red and his eyes a little wet themselves.

“Don’t worry about it,” Spot assured him, pecking his lips quickly, a genuine smile finding its way onto his face. “I’m never letting you go now.”

“I wouldn’t ever want you to.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading as always! i take requests like this one on my tumblr @tony-higgins and i'm always down to chat if anyone wants to talk newsies lmao
> 
> kudos and comments make my day so thank you in advance!
> 
> <3


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